Cassandra felt a gentle tug and reluctantly forced herself to wake up. She yawned and drowsily scrubbed her left hand over her left eye. She realized she was still lying on her right side, her right arm stretched out beneath her pillow and cushioning her head.
She lay there quietly for a few seconds, confused as what had awakened her, and she began to drift off again. She felt the tugging again and snapped to full wakefulness. Her chest felt strange—not painful, but more like a pressure, as though her entire upper body was caught in a slowly tightening vise. From behind her came the sound of a whimper, soft and ephemeral as a spring breeze. She held her breath and listened, not daring to move a muscle. Soon there was a faint plaintive whine, accompanied by rapid, gasping breaths. The vise tightened a bit more. Her smooth brow furrowed as she frowned in the dark room.
Jenkins was dreaming again, having a nightmare, and through their Sealing she was feeling the same stress he was feeling in his dream. It happened occasionally; oftentimes she was awakened by the emotions he had no control over when he was asleep. Cassandra never said anything to him about it the next day, though. He felt terrible when his more violent nightmares caused him to cry out in the middle of the night or to bolt upright in bed, disturbing her sleep. She saw no reason to add to his anxiety about it, especially since she was usually able to go straight back to sleep anyway.
Jenkins moaned again, this time with a sharp jerking movement of his arms and legs. Concerned, Cassandra almost pushed herself upright to turn and wake her husband, but then caught herself as an idea came to her: She wanted to try something, test a theory that she'd been pondering on for some time now. She and Jenkins could feel each other's emotions through their Sealing; could they also influence one another's emotions through their Sealing as well? She felt slightly guilty for treating Jenkins as a guinea pig of sorts, but this was too good an opportunity to test that idea to pass it up.
Cassandra closed her eyes and took several deep breaths in preparation. When she was ready, she cleared her mind kept her eyes closed as she thought only of Jenkins. Immediately she was struck full-force by the emotions he was feeling as he dreamed behind her. Fear, helplessness, despair—the mélange of emotions swallowed her like a thick, sticky, noxious cloud. She, too, began to gasp for air as she experienced a sense of suffocation, her face twisting in the darkness with terror and panic.
She quickly took control and attempted to force the dark emotions away, but they were amazingly powerful and threatened to overpower her. A quiet whimper escaped her and she nearly gave up the impromptu experiment, but then inspiration struck: What was the opposite of darkness? Light, of course.
Cassandra, her eyes still tightly closed, quickly pictured light in her mind's eye. A sun, large, bright and full of life, bathing her with gentle, nourishing intensity. Its light filled her mind, destroying the darkness that surrounded her and replacing the cold, clammy chill with warmth. Suddenly there was a waterline in front of her, an ocean, the waves lapping in a gentle, soothing rhythm against the shore. In her mind she turned and looked around her. A clear blue sky above, clean white sand at her bare feet, the hem of her long satin nightgown flapping loosely around her ankles. There were palm trees and flowering tropical plants nearby, their branches and leaves rustling softly in a pleasantly perfumed breeze. Nearby was a large colorful beach umbrella, planted in the ground to provide shade for two wicker chaise-lounges equipped with pillows. Between the chaise-lounges was a small table laden with an ice bucket chilling an expensive bottle of champagne, a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice and two glasses.
"Cassandra?"
The Librarian turned to sound of her husband's baffled voice. Jenkins was standing a short distance from her, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. She nearly burst into laughter at the sight of him; he was oblivious to the fact that he was wearing the pajamas he'd worn to bed that night.
"Hi, sweetie!" she brightly greeted him. When she was close enough he reached out absently to take both of her hands in his.
"Cassandra?" he repeated. He began patting his body and examining his arms and legs, as if looking for something. "I don't understand—I was in this horrible, dark, stinking cave full of giant spiders just now and—" Before he could finish the sentence the young redhead pulled a hand from his and lightly placed her fingers over his lips.
"Would you like a mimosa?" she interrupted, and began to gently tug his hand, urging him to follow her toward the chaise-lounges. "Isn't it a beautiful day today? Perfect for just sitting in the sun and sipping mimosas, isn't it?"
Jenkins, his nightmare evaporating before the beauty of his young wife's smile, beamed and followed her eagerly. "It is, indeed!" he answered happily, "And yes, I would love a mimosa!"
In their bedroom, Cassandra, eyes still closed, felt Jenkins turn toward her in his sleep, felt his arm slide around her body and pull her close. The last thing she felt was her husband nuzzling his face into her hair and kissing the back of her neck before she finally allowed herself to slip back into sleep and spend the rest of the night on a faraway tropical beach, drinking mimosas as she and Jenkins held hands and laughed and talked and viewed the gorgeous sunset over the ocean's horizon.